


Hatchlings

by flecksofpoppy



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Character Study, Father Figures, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2272242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flecksofpoppy/pseuds/flecksofpoppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Children collect secrets like smooth stones and seashells. Written for the Shinra Executive Gift Exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hatchlings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CameoAmalthea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CameoAmalthea/gifts).



> Request 4: Veld reflecting on President Shinra as a husband and father while thinking of his own family.
> 
> If set before the Kalm incident, maybe young Rufus and Felecia meeting.

Children collect secrets the same way they do trinkets—smooth stones, seashells, pieces of colored paper, coins—meaningless bits and pieces of detritus that happen to fascinate them at that particular moment.

Rufus has always been an inquisitive child. In the upper floors of the Shinra building, where only the Turks and Shinra family were allowed to go, Rufus would roam the halls with Dark Nation, as if on patrol. He seemed to be preparing for something, collecting secrets and whispering them to his pet—a gift on his sixth birthday from his mother, who warned him to only ever share his deepest, darkest truths to a beast that could only maul, but not speak.

Her laughter was silvery and cold, like the tinkle of a precious metal bell, but Rufus had always seemed delighted when his mother laughed.

The Shinra family was always a bit odd. They were consistently the talk of Midgar; even though they owned the city, it didn’t stop the gossips from spreading rumors.

President Shinra spent most of his time locked away in his office, working furiously on projects with his closest advisors. Those meetings must have seemed exotic to outsiders, but in reality, it was mostly just Scarlet demanding more funding, Reeve looking nervous, Heidegger breathing heavily like a deep sea monster awaiting prey, and Veld himself, watching.

But everyone paid close attention to Rufus giggling with his mother about secrets, whispering things into Dark Nation’s ear, stroking its raven head. They all knew that, one day, he’d inherit the Company and control all of their fates; best to get a leg up on the competition before the boss was old enough to establish the difference between right and wrong.

Rufus always had a way about him, though. He was naturally curious, as most children are, but cunning like his mother. President Shinra, on the other hand, never had cleverness on his side, but he was ruthless; a quality which frequently proved more effective than relying solely on smarts to attain power.

Everyone dreaded the moment, though, when Rufus would run up to them and demand a secret.

 _“Tell me something!”_ he’d squeal, his voice shrill in the vast hallways. _“Whisper it in my ear, and I’ll only tell Dark Nation.”_

The first was Scarlet. She’d pursed her lips into a pout, dropped to her knees in a surreal, almost motherly way in her red dress, and whispered something into his ear, red lips smirking as she did so.

Whatever she’d shared delighted Rufus, and he’d run back to Dark Nation and relayed the tidbit with great excitement. Then, she’d crooned in a voice that was more steel wool that tinkly bell: _”Is my secret safe with you, devilish little thing?”_

Rufus did it to everyone—Heidegger, Reeve, Hojo, even President Shinra himself—always running back to his pet to contribute the secret to his own, personal collection.

Veld had to wonder what they all told the pint-size Shinra heir, and whether Rufus knew the gravity of the game he was playing.

He mentally prepared himself for his turn—his own personal inquisition, when Rufus would ask for a secret—and unexpectedly, his mind jumped back to memories of Felicia.

It was unexpected, the way his mind folded in on itself, bringing up tender, raw memories that he usually kept deep within himself, like a secret locket.

Felicia liked secrets, too, but more of the truly childish variety. 

There was one day when she’d gotten into trouble after stealing a loaf of bread at her peers’ urging. The local Kalm youth weren’t riff-raff, exactly, but certainly provincial.

Felicia’s mother had reprimanded her harshly, forcing her to walk back to the bakery and return to the bread. She’d cried the entire time, but Veld’s wife was a stern woman who wouldn’t be dissuaded once she made a decision.

 _“Go, Felicia,”_ she’d instructed, pointing her finger down the road. _“Apologize to the shopkeeper now, or else you’ll have no more sweetbread after dinner.”_

The loss of sweet things always struck fear into the hearts of children, and Felicia had hurried off and apologized, mortified.

Afterward, she’d returned to the house, crying. Her mother had gone out, and Veld had been there, looking over confidential reports that had been delivered by courier. He had been lost in thought when Felicia had walked up to him timidly after quelling her tears.

 _“Yes?”_ he’d asked, raising his eyes to regard his daughter. She had tears streaking her face, brown braids frayed where she’d run back to the bakery at her mother’s order, and looking worse for the wear. But one sentiment he recognized was guilt, and he had been heartened that Felicia understood how to learn important lessons. 

_“Daddy,”_ she’d said solemnly after a moment, _“what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”_

He doesn’t remember his answer.

In the here and now, with his prosthetic limb and shadowed eyes, the entire scenario is like a distant echo in a life that seems as if it never was, a memory that seems imagined, like a fairytale.

He lays the thoughts to rest again—much like his conscience—and tries to avoid Rufus. 

Inevitably, though, Veld gets his comeuppance after escaping Rufus’s scavenger hunt for secrets for so long.

It’s in the hallway after one of the secret meetings with the President that Rufus finally catches him.

“Veld,” Rufus says, smiling up at him as he strokes Dark Nation, “my father says you have the _best_ secrets out of everyone. Will you tell me one?”

Veld lets his mouth downturn, looking as menacing as possible, and he raises an eyebrow ever so slightly.

Surprisingly, it’s Dark Nation that whines, and Rufus seems to take the signal and back away slightly.

“Well,” Veld finally replies in a deep, ominous voice, “would you like to know the worst thing I’ve ever done?”

Despite Dark Nation’s hesitance, Rufus looks at monstrous pet and smiles a little, his face devious.

“I’ll only tell Dark Nation,” he replies, tilting his head to the side innocently.

It’s when he pulls his shoulders back and his cold blue eyes meet Veld’s, that he finally has his father’s face.

“Well, in that case,” Veld replies, smiling through the stiff pull of his facial scars, “let me tell you a story about stealing. Theft is a terrible sin, after all.”

Rufus giggles and scratches Dark Nation behind the ears. “Scarlet says I stole her heart—that was her secret. Does that count?”

Veld smiles wryly, indulgently, and nods.

“Is that the worst thing _you’ve_ ever done?” he asks, patting Rufus on the shoulder.

Rufus grins, laughs his mother’s laugh and holds Veld’s eyes with President Shinra’s stare, as he replies, “No.” 

Children collect secrets the way that starlings collect shiny things—building a nest, waiting for it all to hatch.

It’s only a matter of time.


End file.
